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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24922951">Moon Magic</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quietlemonhush/pseuds/Quietlemonhush'>Quietlemonhush</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bottom Sirius Black, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Everybody Lives, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sirius Black, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Protective Remus Lupin, Remus Lupin &amp; Lily Evans Potter Friendship, Sad Sirius Black, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Sirius Black Lives, Smut, Top Remus Lupin, Werewolf Remus Lupin, werewolf stuff, wolfstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:21:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,576</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24922951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quietlemonhush/pseuds/Quietlemonhush</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The year after Remus turns 25, the moon’s effect on him grows stronger.</p>
<p>No one knows why. There isn’t much science on this. Maybe because the war is over. Maybe because his brain is fully developed. Maybe he’s unlucky. It’s just a thing. It happens.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Remus Lupin/Sirius Black</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>792</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Moon Magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I love Harry Potter but JK Rowling is a dick. No TERFs. Sirius and Remus support trans rights and so do I.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>January.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The year after Remus turns 25, the moon’s effect on him grows stronger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one knows why. There isn’t much science on this. Maybe because the war is over. Maybe because his brain is fully developed. Maybe he’s unlucky. It’s just a thing. It happens.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is less patient in the days before, when the moon is at its peak. He paces endlessly, and eats his meat rare, and walks with a kind of confidence even James can’t mimic. His libido is unstoppable, and Sirius says he loves it but Remus finds bruises and bruises on his skin. He grows impossibly strong, and given to using that strength. His magic is faster too, which makes him doubly dangerous: he’s got a short fuse and a potent amount of skill, and if he needs to be restrained, it’s going to be an effort. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he restrains himself. He sets up residence in the Shrieking Shack. Sirius is furious, insists he come home, that he isn’t an animal. He snaps that Sirius doesn’t know what he’s talking about. They fight. Remus wins.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Only he loses, too, because the Moon wrecks him. He comes to himself with a broken leg, covered in blood. Worse, it’s not just his blood: Sirius is unconscious, and there is a bright smear of blood across his chest, a wound against his ribs. It takes weeks to heal, and every time Remus sees it, he remembers that he is an animal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>February.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You saw why you can’t isolate yourself,” Sirius says stubbornly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I saw why I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
 to isolate myself. I hurt you,” Remus insists.
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was Padfoot. There was no harm done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a scar.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re worse when you’re alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is my decision.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He spends the Moon alone for the first time since fifth year. It takes him two weeks to be able to walk again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius is so angry that he won’t speak to Remus for three days, just furiously changes his bandages and brings him food. His hands are gentle but his mouth is set in a thin line, like Remus has betrayed him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the third day Remus croaks “I didn’t know the Fulls mattered this much to you.” They are in their bedroom, Remus resting against the headboard, his body a map of pain. It hasn’t been this bad in years. Maybe ever. He can’t remember much of the night of the Full, but the sense of something missing is so great that even now it weighs on him. He spent the Full searching for something, and when he couldn’t find it, he tore himself to pieces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> matter to me,” Sirius spits, the muscles in his jaw flexing. He is standing by the bedside with a vial in one hand and a soft towel in the other. He has spent hours tending to Remus’ wounds, radiating a kind of fury normally reserved for Snape. “You fucking idiot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t hurt you,” Remus murmurs. He looks down at his legs, the shape of them under the soft blue blankets. The muscles were mangled, and even now are healing slowly. Better him than Sirius. Better to tear himself to shreds than watch Sirius wince when he breathes and know it’s his fault. He can’t do it. He won’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are hurting me right now,” Sirius says flatly, honestly, and walks out of the bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>March.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I respect that this is your decision,” Lily says diplomatically. It is three days before the Full and they are at the Shack. It’s getting worse. Remus nearly broke Sirius’ bike today. He looked at him straddling the bike, at his thighs and arse in those black jeans, and the bike </span>
  <em>
    <span>thrumming</span>
  </em>
  <span> against him… he saw red.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Over a bike.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hasn’t let himself touch Sirius in weeks, and Sirius is hurt and furious and not sleeping in their bed at night. Remus doesn’t know where he’s sleeping. He is too afraid to ask. It is tense between them, and Sirius has stopped fighting back, which is always when things are most dangerous. A silent and lethal eye of the storm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus always wants Sirius but now when the moon grows thick he wants Sirius so bad he could scream. He wants to touch him constantly, and sometimes it’s sexual—to bend him over and bite down hard on the crux of his shoulder, open him with slick fingers until Sirius is gasping and making that delectable little “ah - fuck - ah - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Remus</span>
  </em>
  <span>” noise that makes Remus want to fuck him until they’re both dead. Sometimes it’s not sexual, though; sometimes he just wants to settle his fingers around Sirius’ wrist, his bicep, just to feel his pulse and know he’s alive. He has always felt these things but he feels them so strongly now that he is terrified of what he will do if he gives in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He keeps his hands in his pockets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus knows Sirius well enough to know that the situation isn’t good for either of them, but every time he is tempted to kiss him, or grab his hands and slowdance in the kitchen—so fucking sappy but Sirius </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves</span>
  </em>
  <span> that shit, looks like a child on Christmas morning, all bright eyed and eager, when Remus so much as sways with him—he remembers January’s moon, and waking up with Sirius’ blood on him, and the way James muttered “fuck, fuck, Padfoot, wake up” and Remus can’t do it, he can’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I respect,” Lily says slowly, and Remus looks up at her, snapping back to the moment, the Shack, Lily’s blue linen dress and worried face, “that you are trying to be safe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They can’t come,” Remus says flatly. “Neither of them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are spiraling,” Lily says matter of factly. “You’re in a full self-hatred spiral.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be that as it may.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re pushing everyone away.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not pushing anyone away,” Remus lies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you even know where Sirius sleeps right now?” Lily asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus is quiet. He can hear his heart pounding. What if the answer is someone else’s bed? A wave of jealousy so potent he can taste it washes over him, and although he has never understood the wolf’s desires, even he can taste the sadness, the despair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That makes two of us</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks bitterly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he says finally. “But it’s not going to be here.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he wakes up the morning after the moon with his stomach torn open, Remus is barely strong enough to let down the wards keeping the doors locked. The next thing he knows is Sirius’ warm fingers on his face. Distantly, Remus thinks that Sirius is very fast, or he slept outside the Shack. This is his last thought before he drifts into unconsciousness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>April.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus sleeps deeply, a potion-induced slumber while his body knits itself back together. When he does wake up, he is in his own bed, wearing clean pajamas, and there are fresh scars on his torso. He fumbles for his watch on the bedside, checks and rechecks the date. He has been asleep for two weeks, and the world has slipped into April while he rested. He wakes up and feels fresh and easy and new and confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks around the room for clues, for context, for something to help him understand where the days went. But the room is only just clean; there’s a bookshelf full of field guides under the window, and the corner is dominated by a record player with a ridiculous stack of vinyls nearby. Normally they’re strewn because Sirius jumps from album to album, but they’re stacked neatly now, all tidy inside their sleeves. The closet is halfway open and Remus can see clothes hung nicely inside. Everything is orderly and calm, which is never how it is, and this fact worries him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tries to sit and finds it barely hurts at all, just a twinge in his stomach near the freshest scars. He stands, and this is even easier. The moon is thin now, and he is himself, not distracted by the lunar pull. He feels almost good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pads out of the room, down the hall towards the kitchen. The flat is very quiet. In the kitchen, Sirius is sitting on the countertop, staring at his own socked feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks terrible. Sirius never looks terrible, but he does now. He looks, Remus thinks distantly, how he used to look at Hogwarts after a letter from his parents. Lost. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Remus says, his voice raspy from lack of use. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius looks up and that’s worse, because his gaze is hollow. He does a very fake impression of a smile. “You’re up,” he says. His voice might fool someone else, someone who isn’t Remus, but there’s no hiding it between them. Sirius keeps going like Remus can’t see he’s crumbling. “Pomfrey said the elixir would wear off this afternoon. Feeling alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look like shit,” Remus says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius flinches. “Want something to eat?” He asks, a little desperately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Remus asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pomfrey gave you something to help with food and all that, but it’s still a long time not to eat,” Sirius is rambling. Remus feels like he’s woken up in an alternate dimension, where Sirius Black looks bad and rambles when he speaks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, with you, I mean,” Remus says. He moves closer, touches Sirius’ arm. Sirius stares at his hand like it’s shocking him. “Are you alright?” Remus asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius meets his gaze fully, and then it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hits</span>
  </em>
  <span>: it’s like a magnet, like a firebrand, like Remus is drowning. He wants so desperately he can hardly help the way his fingers curl around Sirius’ forearm. He remembers, distantly, why he has been staying away, but he can’t think of this because he’s kissing Sirius, biting his lower lip, and his hands are finally on Sirius’ skin, feeling the muscles jump. He’s pushed between Sirius’ knees and their chests are flush and Sirius is making a soft, wounded noise against Remus’ mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Remus murmurs, kissing him and kissing him, and this is the best thing he’s ever done, why hasn’t he been doing this? Every part of him is jubilant, like he’s won the world’s greatest prize. “Fuck, I missed you,” Remus says, and it’s only then that he notices the wetness on his face, that he notices Sirius is crying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls back just a hair and Sirius collapses, and fuck, he’s not crying, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>sobbing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, arms wrapped around himself like he’s breaking. The jubilation is gone, and all Remus can think is that Sirius is hurt, something hurt him, hurt him so bad that he’s crying like he never cries, all open and raw pain. He’s crying like he did when he was disowned. He’s crying like he’s never going to stop, and that feels just as bad as kissing him felt good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sirius,” Remus says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “Love.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius shudders, and slides off the counter, pushing past Remus. Remus bites back a noise of pain. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come back</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he almost says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to go,” Sirius says, his voice gravelly and broken. And then he’s gone with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>pop</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Remus is alone.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You woke up,” James announces when he comes through the floo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus is sitting on the floor by the sofa, trying to understand the last several months, trying to understand himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unfortunately,” Remus says faintly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James sits down in front of him, and Remus can’t help but notice that he looks grimmer than usual. He wonders if James has been sleeping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me what happened,” James says, resting his palms on his knees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I kissed him,” Remus says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well it’s about time,” James says. “But that’s not what I mean. Tell me what happened before, what’s been happening in your head. Tell me why you won’t let us help you anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus does. He’s been saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing, nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span> for months, but you can only fight James Potter for so long. He tells him about how it’s all gotten stronger, how he wants to touch Sirius all the time, how he nearly broke the bike. He tells him he can smell everyone’s blood under their skin in the days before the Full, and how it makes him feel dizzy and hungry and wild. He tells him that he is afraid of biting someone, of hurting someone. Of hurting Sirius.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James is a very good listener. He stays quiet, and he nods, and he doesn’t argue when Remus calls himself a dark creature. He just listens until Remus is done, and tired from admitting his own ferality. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You haven’t told him any of this,” James says, and when Remus shakes his head, he nods. “You’re going to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t,” Remus says. “What will he think of me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know what he thinks right now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s better than me being a monster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need you to try to step outside this spiral for a minute, okay? Ask yourself if that statement is really true.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus tried his best. He thinks about the last months, about how Sirius Black responds to rejection, to being ignored. “Oh,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” James echoes grimly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Remus says, and a queasiness fills him. He has been so focused on the taste of blood in his mouth. He has forgotten how Sirius reacts when Remus pulls away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The look on his face, staring at his socks. Fuck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you are going to tell him,” James says firmly. “And we are going to fix this.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James brings Sirius back, and Sirius looks like he has been physically dragged through the floo. He won’t look at Remus. His eyes are red from crying. Remus has destroyed everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus repeats it all in a jumble. He peppers apologies in. He stumbles over his words when he goes to describe the wanting, how strong is it. His mouth is dry. “It’s like I could destroy you, how much I want you,” he says. “And I didn’t want to destroy you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because,” James prompts patiently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I love you more than anything,” Remus says softly, and he feels guilt so strong to realize he can’t remember the last time he said this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius shudders when he says it. “You don’t have to—“ he says, then shakes his head, quickly. “I’ll help. You don’t have to love me for me to help you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus will never forgive himself for this, for the way Sirius is holding himself together. “I love you,” he says, quiet. “I love you,” he says again. “I’m so sorry. I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Sirius says weakly. He rubs his hands over his face. “Let’s start with—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it isn’t fine, not for Remus, because Sirius could stop loving him and that would make sense, but he will never not love Sirius. He folds forward onto his knees and walks on them to Sirius, who is huddled in an arm chair. He stops in front of Sirius, and trusts himself enough to put his hands on Sirius’ knees. “Look at me,” he says, and Sirius still obeys, eyes flicking up to meet Remus’. “I haven’t been good to you,” Remus says, his voice catching. “I didn’t mean it but it doesn’t matter. I know I’ve hurt you. I should’ve known better. But I was scared.” He shakes his head, and looks back at Sirius again. “I’m sorry, love. I’m so very sorry. It was never you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius opens his mouth and nothing comes out. Then he lets out a ragged breath, like something is breaking in him. “I thought-“ he says, and his voice cracks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Remus says. “Fuck, Sirius. I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you were done with me,” Sirius whispers, and his voice is all raw pain. Sirius always hides pain in flippancy and fury, but now he is nothing but an exposed nerve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus shakes his head. “No,” he says, and doesn’t know how to get it all out of his mouth. “That’s not… I wish I…” Remus has never been good at saying his feelings, and this feeling is big enough to swallow him whole. “I couldn’t be,” he says finally. “I just… I woke up, that first Moon, and you weren’t moving, the bite, you looked—I need you to be safe, I need to keep you safe—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would rather be dead than do this again,” Sirius says hoarsely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Remus says before he can think, and it’s that deep, wide feeling again, that he wants to break something. Sirius can’t be dead. Sirius can’t even say dead. It’s too much to bear, and his chest is tight with fear and anger and something else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius reaches out to him, touches soft fingertips to Remus’ cheek. The feeling drains out of him, the desperation, like poison from a wound. He closes his eyes. It feels like he has been traveling for a long time, and he is finally home. </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That night, after James makes sure they both eat dinner and gives them a pep talk about how they can solve things if they stick together, which is fundamentally the same pep talk he’s been giving since first year, he leaves them, and it is just Remus and Sirius and the quiet in their flat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They are sitting next to each other on the sofa, and Sirius is still holding himself like he has a bruise, but he is sitting next to Remus, their sides pressed together, and that feels better. Remus has put on Sirius’ favorite records and lets the music fill the void where words can’t go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It gets later, darker. Sirius rests his head on Remus’ shoulder, a cascade of dark hair on his chest. Remus is brave enough to wrap one arm around him. They sit there for a long time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t leave tonight,” Remus says quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t want me here,” Sirius mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought-“ Remus screws his eyes shut. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I thought I might wake up with your blood on my hands, or worse, worse.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I know. But it wasn’t because I didn’t want you here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can sleep on the couch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Remus says firmly. “No, please. Come to bed with me.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They fall asleep next to each other. When Remus wakes up Sirius is half on top of him, his head on Remus’ chest, one leg thrown across Remus’ hips. Remus has to clench his fists to ride the wave of joy that shoots through him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s where you belong.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Full gets closer, and Remus is trying so, so hard. He is trying to let Sirius in, and to listen to James, and to eat his meals, and not to break. He has dreams of eating and eating and throwing up blood and bones. He wakes up in cold sweats, but always Sirius is there, his chest rising and falling peacefully, and Remus listens to his heartbeat until he falls asleep again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James has theories, but lycanthropy is so rarely studied. He travels to Paris and Cairo and Remus worries because James is seeking out werewolves and that is never a safe thing to do, but James refuses to let Remus come. “Stay home. Stay with Sirius,” James says pointedly, and Remus looks at Sirius, who is still walking like he’s been punched in the gut, and obeys. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Four days before the Full, Remus is sitting at the shabby dining room table in their flat, trying to focus on the crossword, but he can taste Sirius’ blood when he steps out of the shower, and hear his bones shifting when he takes a step. Sirius is standing in the bathroom doorway, a towel around his waist. Remus is staring at him, the taste of the drops of water on Sirius’ flat stomach popping like champagne bubbles in his mouth. Sirius notices Remus staring and smiles at him. “Hey,” Sirius says, and lets the towel drop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus moves before he can think, a lunge that carries him halfway across the room in a second. He stops just in front of Sirius and wonders if he is in control of himself and doesn’t know the answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius presses himself against Remus fully, twining his arms around Remus’ neck and kissing him. Remus settles his hands on Sirius’ lower back, where his skin is still damp from the shower. His skin feels like gossamer, like silk. Sirius kisses him again and again, the corner of his mouth, along his jaw. “What’s wrong?” He murmurs when Remus stays still.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid I will hurt you,” Remus whispers. “I can feel this </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>in me and it recognizes you, it wants you, and what if it…” He swallows, unable to say it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You won’t hurt me,” Sirius says, like it’s a simple and irrefutable fact. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sirius.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know what you do on the Full?” Sirius murmurs in his ear, naked and damp and pressed full against him so that Remus can feel him breathing. “When you are at your most violent, your most far gone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I try to eat rabbits,” Remus says hoarsely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm, yes” Sirius says, his breath a hot gust on Remus’ ear. “But besides that. Sometimes you out run me. Never Prongs; he’s fastest of us all, keeps up. But my legs are shorter than yours. When you get going, you can lap me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t helping me feel better,” Remus says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whenever you see me fall behind,” Sirius moves his hands down Remus’ chest, a slow glide that lights up every nerve, “you always come back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A distracted werewolf—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. A mated werewolf.” Sirius unbuttons Remus’ pants slow. “You always come back to my side. You leave the rabbits behind and come back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus is distracted by Sirius’ scent and his hands, working his zipper down, but he wants to argue. “Werewolves are dark creatures,” he insists. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius laughs and bites his earlobe, a little tug of teeth and now that teeth are in the game Remus wants to mark Sirius head to toe, bite his jaw, his neck, leave little imprints everyone can see. He doesn’t want to break the skin; it’s not a desire to maim, just to mark, to make sure everyone in the world knows. His breath hitches, but Sirius is still talking, scraping his teeth along Remus’ jaw. “So dark,” Sirius says, and he’s being patronizing but Remus can’t care right now. “At Christmas, you spent most of the night licking my ears. Vicious.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius’ long, smooth fingers are wrapped around Remus’ cock now, taking him out of his pants, just tight enough to make Remus feel hot and weak. “That’s not-“ Remus says and cuts himself off with a groan. He presses his face against the curve of Sirius’ shoulder and mouths at it. Sirius is stroking his cock and it feels dizzingly good after months of denying himself this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You won’t hurt me in any way I don’t like,” Sirius says. “I trust you, Remus Lupin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus doesn’t know if it’s right, but he knows he can’t help himself anymore. He grabs Sirius, one hand kneading his arse cheek and the other tangling in his hair, and kisses him with the intention to bruise. He bites at Sirius’ lower lip, the plump, full rosiness of it, and then he yanks at his fistful of hair to reveal a pale column of neck. Sirius gasps at the first bite on his shoulder, but he’s grinding against Remus, practically climbing him, his breath coming sharp and hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want you,” Remus says against Sirius’ chest, biting down on his pectoral, tasting the soap on his skin. “Fuck, I want you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Sirius breathes, his hands on Remus’ hair and shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. “Please, please yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He said yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Remus thinks, and then he is moving, and Sirius is over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. He almost stops there, afraid of his own desire, but Sirius is laughing, bent over his shoulder and kicking his legs just enough to be annoying. “Next time I want to be carried over the threshold like a bride,” Sirius says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus can’t hold back a feral grin. He keeps going, and dumps Sirius unceremoniously on their bed. “Next time you will still be in this bed,” he says, and kneels in the space between Sirius’ splayed thighs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius pulls him down by the shirt and then they are kissing again, and Remus is filling his hands with all of the skin he has denied himself for months. He pushes Sirius’ thigh up towards his chest, running his fingers lightly over his hole. Other times he would be slower, draw it out longer, but he can’t bear it anymore. Sirius arches and grinds down against his fingers, mouth falling open in an unspoken plea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been months but Remus barely has to think of the spell before his fingers are slick. He always opens Sirius with two fingers, always enough pressure to make him gasp, and he doesn’t disappoint, making a low noise into Remus’ mouth. “F-fuck,” Sirius stutters as Remus thrusts his fingers in. “Fuck, it’s been—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re tight,” Remus murmurs, scissoring his fingers and feeling Sirius clench, arching up below him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s—</span>
  <em>
    <span>ah</span>
  </em>
  <span>—been months—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course it has. Remus has denied himself the right to touch Sirius, and Sirius is loyal to the death so no one else could—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus snarls and bites down reflexively on Sirius’ side, forcing a third finger past the tight ring of muscle, and Sirius squirms underneath him. “Moony—“ he says, his voice breathy and high. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus presses his forehead flat against Sirius’ chest, breathing hard. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he tells himself, but he wants to hear Sirius gasp again. “No one else touches you,” he says, thrusts his fingers hard enough that Sirius moans, hips jerking. “No one else does this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only you,” Sirius agrees, head tilted back, chest falling in quick bursts. “Yeah, Re, always only you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moon is building in Remus’ blood, and it demands, needs, craves to end a long long loneliness. Remus presses a fourth finger into Sirius, watches as he twists, always twists, always gets overwhelmed by fullness. “Uhnnn,” Sirius groans, fists clenching in the sheets. “I need you, please, need you so much—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius’ leg is propped against Remus’ chest and he turns his head to bite down on the soft spot under his ankle. This was one of the first things Remus ever did, fumbling under Sirius’ school robes in a dark classroom, and Sirius had been so fucking lovely that Remus hadn’t known how to breathe and instead had bit, and when he lifted his head to apologize Sirius was glassy eyed and panting, halfway to coming in his pants. It works the same now: he bites down again and watches Sirius shiver with pleasure, rocking into his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s muscle memory at this point, the way he tilts Sirius’ hips up and lines up the head of his cock, pushing into him slowly—fuck, slowly, watching Sirius’ mouth fall open, the hot hot heat of him. He has been so worried that he’ll lose control, that he’ll force Sirius or won’t take care of him, but every part of him now is focused on the look on Sirius’ face, watching for signs of discomfort. Sirius looks like he’s in rapture, though, arching, his mouth a perfect o, and the realization that Remus did that, put that pleasure on his face, is overwhelming. He has been terrified to hurt Sirius but when he loses control, he only makes Sirius feel good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remus, love, please,” Sirius is panting, rocking his hips to get Remus to move. “Please please please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Remus can’t move, can’t shake off the weight of the realization. “I’m not hurting you,” he says in wonder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not enough, no,” Sirius says breathlessly. “Please fuck me. Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Remus can’t resist that, so he does, rocking back and then thrusting in once, hard, and the noise Sirius makes it like glory. Sirius grasps at Remus’ shoulders, whining in the back of his throat. “More,” he says, and Remus obeys.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He fucks Sirius in long, smooth thrusts, each one intended to make him shudder, and Sirius does, a litany of moans and curses that fill Remus like a torrent. Remus fits his fingers around Sirius’ slim hip bones and holds him still and fucks into him so hard that Sirius can’t even speak, just makes those little—</span>
  <em>
    <span>“Moony, ah, ah, fuck”</span>
  </em>
  <span>—and it’s like the moon itself has come down and filled their room, the power Remus feels. He could destroy a planet with it, but he doesn’t need to destroy anything, just needs to keep seeing the way Sirius’ eyelashes flutter against his cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> touch me,” Sirius begs, and Remus does, one hand tight on his cock, stroking him in time with the thrusts and that is even better because Sirius is rocking against him, into his cock and his hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re so fucking pretty,” Remus snarls, and then he bites down on Sirius’ neck and Sirius comes and the noise he makes, the drawn out moan like he’s shattering apart, is the sun illuminating the moon’s pitted surface.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They fuck three more times before the Full, and each time Remus is afraid that now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> the wolf will hurt Sirius, now he will lose control—but each time he wakes up with Sirius in his arms, nearly humming with contentment, safe and sated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He goes to the Shack on the night of the Full, but he lets Sirius and James come on the condition that they leave if things turn violent. When he comes to himself in the morning light, Sirius’ hair is tickling his face. “Good morning Moony,” Sirius says, his voice soft. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you hurt?” Remus asks, terror winding through him nearly as strong as the exhaustion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m hurt,” James complains loudly, somewhere in the room. “Last night you bumped me into a pond and it was very much on purpose. Practically did a little wolfy laugh. Asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius’ face cracks open with pleasure. He kisses Remus gently, gently, and murmurs, “It was, too.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>May</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s spring, and things are closer to normal. Remus recovers quickly from the Full, and is up and working on his book—a field guide to magical creatures that focuses on ethical interactions instead of old myths—only a day after. Sirius dotes on him, brings him fresh cups of tea in the morning and curry on his way back from work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius is working a case with James, trying to ferret out a vampire that’s leaving dismembered thralls along the Thames. His hours get longer as more body parts turn up. Sirius and James are good at what they do, and Remus trusts them. Mostly. He trusts them </span>
  <em>
    <span>mostly</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is a rainy May evening. The daffodils Remus planted are growing so fast that he can nearly hear them stretch and sigh. A pot of stock flowers sits on the table and fills the whole apartment with their fragrance. Remus is writing about the communal lives of boggarts. He is so deep in the text that it takes Lily three tries to get his attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Moony,” she says impatiently, and now he leaps from the chair and draws his wand on her in one movement. He regrets it immediately; old war habits die hard. Lily is standing there with her hands up, and her face is drawn in worry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s happened?” Remus asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re okay,” Lily says. “They’re both okay.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius and James are released from St. Mungos and put on a week of bed rest. There’s no serious damage—the two of them together are dangerous, fast and capable and sharp, and it is rare to see them incapacitated. But there was some kind of blood magic, and while the healers at Mungos can reverse it, it makes both of them dizzy and prone to vomiting. Mad Eye snaps at them to actually stay in bed. James agrees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius, however, is </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span> at bed rest. The first day Remus wakes up to an empty bedroom. He finds Sirius working on his bike in the back garden. He’s clammy and pale, and struggling to hold his tools.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you thinking?” Remus demands, wrestling a screwdriver out of his hands, which is easy since Sirius is still shivery and weak. “You’re on bed rest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was bored,” Sirius complains, and leans against Remus. “You’re so warm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus rolls his eyes and pulls Sirius back into the house. It’s the day after the first quarter moon, and he can already feel the pull in his blood. He is aware, as he forcibly escorts a protesting Sirius back towards the bedroom, that he will soon be able to lift him without feeling the effort of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nooooooo,” Sirius whines, reaching back towards the back garden like a child. “Need to fix her alignment!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to sleep, you daft thing,” Remus says, and pretends he isn’t annoyed that Sirius says </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> like the bike is a woman he loves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius tries to duck under Remus’ arm, and when this fails he tries to climb over his shoulder, and he lets out a howl of displeasure as Remus knocks him back into the bed. “I will tie you to this bed,” Remus warns. “It will not be sexy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius rolls over and presses his face against a pillow, grumbling. Remus sits next to him on the bed and pats his shoulder. “I know,” he says. “But it will be—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>it will be okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but suddenly he can taste the vampire’s magic on Sirius’ skin, the bitter taste of it, and he moves without thinking, straddling Sirius and kissing him hard. Sirius makes a surprised noise against his mouth. All Remus can think is </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine he’s mine he’s mine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He kisses down Sirius’ chest, leaving bites over his navel, his sides, anywhere he can taste the magic welling up. He wants to bite the scent off. He wants to mark Sirius from the inside out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He drags himself off, falling off the bed and crumpling on to the floor. His head is full like he’s drunk, and he feels sick with it. Sirius is calling for him, trying to reach down to touch him, but Remus skitters away from his hand and then lunges forward and grabs it, dragging Sirius down to the floor with him. Sirius is deadweight, too sick to really fight. “Moony, Moony, it’s alright,” Sirius is saying, and Remus is hauling Sirius against him, tucking his face into the corner of Sirius’ neck and gasping for air like a drowning man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Sirius says again, tired and soothing. “It’s fine.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Remus comes back to himself he wants to throw up. The shame is hot and bright in his chest. Who drags their sick boyfriend out of bed? Who does that? He wants to leave, but Sirius is sick. Instead he puts Sirius back to bed and goes to make soup and hates himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James recovers faster—of course he does—so three days in James and Lily come over and find Remus in a pile of self-loathing, cursing at himself while he washes the laundry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright?” James asks, his face pale but the scent of the blood magic clean off of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” Remus says sullenly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>James and Lily exchange a complicated series of looks and then James goes to check on Sirius while Lily sits on the sofa and watches Remus with one eyebrow raised. The silence stretches between them for long, long minutes, but Remus knows better than to fight Lily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s like I want to eat him alive but I want him to survive the process,” Remus says bitterly. “Like the wolf can’t tell if that’s prey or…” He drifts off, unable to say it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you considered a bonding ceremony?” Lily asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus throws down the laundry. “I’m not—we aren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>animals</span>
  </em>
  <span>! We aren’t going to-to-“ He sputters incoherently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lily shrugs. “Well it seems like you’re having some insecurities and that might help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not insecure, Lily, I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dark creature</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m a monster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh spare me,” Lily groans, crossing one leg over the other. “I literally cannot listen to that pity party one more time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would eat humans if I could! I would eat </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remus, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> am going to eat you if you don’t stop whining. I know perfectly well that you are a werewolf, you haven’t got to remind me. That’s not the point. I’m telling you that it seems like something in you is feeling unsettled in your relationship and if you felt—if </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of you, including the dark creature bits of you—felt like you were bonded, or mated, or married, or whatever you’d like to call it, maybe that restlessness would settle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus has the familiar feeling that Lily has figured it all out before him.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius is recovering faster now, sitting up in bed and reading novels faster than anyone Remus has ever known. He asks to read the draft of Remus’ field guide, and Remus flushes with pleasure when Sirius reads it attentively, chewing on his finger as he goes. “Never knew thestrals mated for life,” he says as he turns the page.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Most people don’t,” Remus says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just like werewolves,”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus leans against the door jam and watches Sirius, his sharp cheekbones and the stubble on his jaw. He thinks </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to stay with you forever, forever, and always</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the night of the Full, Remus half watches Padfoot zoom back and forth across the Shack, nearly bouncing off the walls. Sirius is restless from his week of rest, even though he’s back on patrol now. He is talking about quitting the Aurors. He likes working with James, but he struggles with the authority structure. He is tasked to carry out fines for petty things and he keeps incinerating the paperwork instead of delivering it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Padfoot races up the staircase and then does a flying leap off of it, landing with a thud by the front door, and Remus leaps to his feet. “Padfoot!” He says urgently, but the dog is already on his feet, wagging his tail so hard it’s a blur. “I told you no more jumping off the stairs. You’re going to break a leg.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Padfoot noses his hand by way of apology and thumps down in front of Remus, rolling onto his back. “You just want a tummy rub,” Remus accuses, but Padfoot wags his tail and lolls his tongue out of his mouth and Remus gives in, crouching down to scritch his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they were young, this is how Remus started to open up, mumbling truths to Padfoot. It seemed easier than talking to Sirius, or especially James. He knows that Sirius is behind the inquisitive grey eyes, but Padfoot’s face is friendly and simple, and he smells familiar. Remus would sit for hours on their dormitory floor, spilling his secrets into the dogs shaggy coat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels the familiar tug now, and says, as if speaking to no one, “Lily suggested we get married.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Padfoot cocks his head, but he looks more interested in the tummy rub than Remus’ words, so Remus goes on. “She thinks maybe I feel… uncommitted, I suppose. To you. To us. Or like some part of me needs to feel more committed. Feel official. Which is daft, because I don’t need anyone to recognize this to know I’ll love you forever. I don’t need a ring.” He scratches up to Padfoot’s ears and then behind them, watching the dog’s leg kick in delight. “But maybe I want one, is the thing. James and Lily don’t have to question anymore, do they? They just wake up and they know. They know they aren’t going anywhere. And we…” Remus trails off, and sighs. “We aren’t always good at staying open to each other. It always seems we’re at risk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t bear to look at Padfoot anymore; this is too vulnerable even for his lolling dog and oversized paws. He stands and turns away, clutching his arms in front of himself. What if Sirius says no? What if he doesn’t feel the same? Remus cringes, but he keeps talking. “And I don’t want to risk you. I want to keep you. I want you to keep me. I want to stay with you, and I always want you to love me. I want us to last. And I want to know we’ll last. I want everyone to know we know we’ll last.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He holds himself still, every ounce of Gryffindor courage spent to the last. Remus has never dared hope for anyone as good as Sirius, anyone who loves him so completely, and to say it—to admit he is foolish enough to believe this could last, that he could be happy—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius’ arms are strong around his waist. He forgets, sometimes, imbued by the strength of the moon, that Sirius is very strong, muscles jumping under his skin. He is so intent on protecting them both that he forgets how Sirius is always watching him, always keeping an eye to make sure he eats, he sleeps. He remembers all at once being in third year, scrawniest in their house, even smaller than Peter, and Sirius jamming his whole fist square in Rabastan Lestrange’s face for hexing Remus in the hallway. He remembers feeling safe. Sirius is one of the most brilliant, dangerous wizards in England, and he is always watching out for Remus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to keep you,” Sirius says in a very soft voice, his breath against Remus’ neck. “I always want to keep you, and be kept by you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus feels the moon rising outside the Shack, but he also feels something else in his blood, a giddy, delirious happiness. “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to be very old with you,” Sirius says. There’s no guard, no joke in his voice. Sincerity is his most treasured possession but he gives it out to Remus like it’s air. “I want to get so old no one knows we used to be young, so old we’re well and truly boring. I want to keep you even after that. I want to die with unfinished business so we can be ghosts together and haunt Gryffindor Tower and never, never sleep in separate beds as long as we’re alive. I want to see your face every day, and go on seeing it, and hearing your voice, and knowing you love me—“ Sirius cuts off sharp, sucks in a hard breath. When he speaks, his voice is shaky. “I want to know you love me every day, because that—because you loving me is—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus spins and kisses the words out of his mouth, and it’s an act of mercy. How could either of them say? How could the two of them, so unaccustomed to being unloved, put to words the unspeakable magic of being cared for, of being accepted for who they were? There is no language to contain that kind of marvel.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time dawn arrives, the dog and the wolf have tired themselves out and collapsed in a heap at the door of the Shack, exhausted from romping through the woods. Nearby, a deer is settled on the rug, dreaming about leaves. The canines are a pile of limbs, snoring against the floorboards, and it’s only the sharp slice of transformation that wakes Remus. He cries out, his bones snapping and shattering and he can’t scream loud enough, so he presses first his muzzle and then his mouth to the dog’s side and howls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then it is over, and the pain is leaking out of him and he is tired but alive. Sirius looks down at him and smiles. “Hullo you,” he says, the sun blooming on his face.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>June</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ceremony takes place at sunset. They go to their favorite lake, and all their friends come. James officiates, and Lily charms the trees so that they sprout flowers of all kinds, peonies and lilacs and foxgloves and roses and bachelors buttons and daisies, all jumbled under the boughs. Marlene spends hours braiding Sirius’ hair back and filling it with fragrant gardenia blooms. There’s no pews or aisle to walk down, just a soft forest floor and their friends in a circle, beaming with joy as Remus and Sirius hold up their hands and allow James to wrap a soft cord around their wrists. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Iunguntur, iunguntur, iunguntur</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he says, and the cord tightens and Sirius gasps and there is a smell like oranges and earth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus feels it, the exact moment, even before the cord disappears. It is like a joint has been out of socket and he didn’t know it. It clicks into place, and he lets out a breath, and fear drains out of him, replaced by the happy calm of a summer day. He kisses Sirius, not because he has to, but because he wants to, and he can, and he will be doing this for the rest of his life.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>July</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus’ field guide is selling so well that for the very first time in his life, he has money. Good money. He uses it to buy them a house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius is </span>
  <em>
    <span>elated</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He is riotously happy about the concept of a home. No one ever thought, back in the war days, that Sirius could be so enthused about domesticity, but after surviving it all, he seems less angry, less on edge. Remus’ love is a gravitational field that helps him come back down to earth. He is balanced, finally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The house isn’t huge, not like Potter Manor, but it is on a decent bit of land and borders a large forest. Sirius and Remus lay on the bed in their new room and argue good naturedly about what to name the house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merlin’s Tits,” Sirius insists. “The only tits in our life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Remus says firmly. “For a variety of reasons, no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Queer Valley,” Sirius tries again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you hoping the homophobes show up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eat A Shit Snivellus Cottage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Severus Snape is not being named in our house name. We’d think of him every </span>
  <em>
    <span>day</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Remus groans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I already think of him daily. I think how I’d like to punch him in his stupid face at least once a day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sirius.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do. Sometimes when I’m trying to fall asleep I just picture punching him. It’s very soothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus throws a bed pillow at Sirius, hits him square in the face. Sirius laughs and lunges at him, knocking him backwards onto the bed, and they wrestle like they’re 14 again, just trying to see who can get the other pinned first. Sirius wins, sits triumphantly on Remus’ sternum, his arms pinned to his sides by Sirius’ knees. “I’m the strongest!” Sirius crows. “I get to name the house!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus rolls his eyes and flips them, landing between Sirius’ bent knees. “You’re stronger than my mum, maybe,” Remus says. “Waif.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius’ eyes widen in real outrage, and he kicks at Remus furiously. Remus laughs, grabbing one clenched fist easily and kissing Sirius’ knuckles. “Don’t you fucking kiss me!” Sirius howls, voice laced with indignance. “You insulted my honor!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus laughs harder, wheezing against Sirius’ side. “Your fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>honor</span>
  </em>
  <span>? You’re a queer, disgraced heir bedding a werewolf. What honor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>married</span>
  </em>
  <span> to a werewolf, you shit,” Sirius huffs. “Or I was before he began insulting me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that it? Are we getting a divorce?” Remus smiles up at him, Sirius’ hand still close to his lips. “Are you leaving me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am,” Sirius says. “I’ve decided to take up with a new dark creature instead. A ghost. Peeves and I–“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus wrinkles his nose in distaste. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Peeves</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He hardly seems your type.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And who do you see me with, then?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me,” Remus says simply, and kisses Sirius’ knuckles again. “Only me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius’ smile goes warm and soft. “Well alright then,” he says. “I suppose that will have to do.”</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They name the house Lemon Spot after the trees Lily charms to grow in the back yard, despite the English chill. All summer long, they make lemonade.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>August.</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a harvest moon, and Remus is on edge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His agent wants him to be over in Paris signing books, and he has faked a head cold because his eyes are lunar bright and he feels raw. Sirius is lounging in the garden, soaking up the heat, debating what kind of job he’d like next. He’s quit the Aurors. They told him to stop arresting purebloods for the same crimes muggleborns get their wands broken for, and he told the Minister to stuff the entire stock of Ollivanders up his ass in more or less those words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus paces in the kitchen. Things have been so good since the ceremony, and he is afraid of how he feels, because what if it all comes back? What if the fix wasn’t enough? What if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a monster, deep in him? What if this can never work?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For years and years he has felt this kind of terror and run away from it. Now he plunges headlong; he bursts into the garden where Sirius is resting. “I’m having a really hard time and I feel like a monster and I don’t know what to do,” he blurts out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius opens his eyes, a layer of sweat on his face. Then he stands in one smooth motion and comes closer, letting the tips of his fingers rest on Remus’ arm. “It’s a harvest moon tonight,” he says, searching Remus’ face. “That always makes you feel off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Remus breathes, focusing on the soft wet red of Sirius’ mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanna fuck?” Sirius asks, and Remus feels a pleasant curl in his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he agrees breathlessly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And then run through the woods together?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus nods, one hand flat on Sirius’ lower back, pulling him close. “Yeah,” he says, snuffling at the hollow of Sirius’ throat. “Yeah, I wanna fuck you. Wanna hear you moan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius tips his head back and hums contentedly. Remus mouths at his collarbones, scraping his teeth there. “Gonna finger you open,” he says, and pauses to suck a hickey onto Sirius’ throat. “Make you writhe. Make you come before I even start fucking you proper, and then hold you down and make you take it and take it and take it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sirius shivers deliciously, fingers digging in hard to Remus’ arms. “Please,” he says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Remus does.</span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The year goes on. It gets colder, and Padfoot and Moony leave pawprints in the snow. They celebrate the holidays with their friends. They fight less. One day in December they do fight, outside a shop on Diagon Alley. Sirius is hungry and irritable and Remus is tired and it goes from there until they are on the cliff of something angry and bitter and then Sirius blurts out “If I tell you my feelings you can’t laugh at me!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Remus, who a moment ago was about to snap something about responsibility, stills. “I won’t,” he swears. “I won’t ever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Sirius spills, and Remus listens, and they solve it together. They just go on like that, solving things together, holding hands at dinner. Most of it is boring. Most of it is lovely.</span>
</p>
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